She has open'd the door, she has open'd it wide,
She sees the pale corse on the plain, oh :
"My true love!" she cried, and sank down by his side,
Never to rise again, oh.
Lovely young Jessie.1
TRUE hearted was he, the sad swain o' the Yarrow,
And fair are the maids on the banks of the Ayr;
But by the sweet side o' the Nith's winding river,
Are lovers as faithful, and maidens as fair:
To equal young JESSIE seek Scotland all over;
To equal young JESSIE you seek it in vain,
Grace, beauty, and elegance fetter her lover,
And maidenly modesty fixes the chain.
Fresh is the rose in the gay, dewy morning,
And sweet is the lily, at evening close;
But in the fair presence o' lovely young JESSIE,
Unseen is the lily, unheeded the rose.
Love sits in her smile, a wizard ensnaring;
Enthron'd in her een he delivers his law:
And still to her charms SHE alone is a stranger;
Her modest demeanour's the jewel of a'.
Meg o' the Mill.a
O KEN ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten,
An' ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten?
She's gotten a coof" wi' a claut o' siller,b
And broken the heart o' the barley Miller.
The Miller was strappin, the Miller was ruddy:
A heart like a lord, and a hue like a lady;
The laird was a widdifu', bleerit knurl";
She's left the gude fellow, and taen the churl.
1 The heroine was a local beauty, a Miss Staig.
• wretched, blear-eyed dwarf.
2 Written for, but not used by Thomson.
The Miller he hecht her a heart leal and loving,
The laird did address her wi' matter mair moving,
A fine pacing-horse wi' a clear chained bridle,
A whip by her side, and a bonie side-saddle.
O wae on the siller, it is sae prevailin,
And wae on the love that is fixed on a mailen bl
A tocher's nae word in a true lover's parle,
But gie me my love, and a fig for the warl'!
Meg o' the Mill.1
Another Version.
O KEN ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten,
An' ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten?
A braw new naigd wi' the tail o' a rottan,
And that's what Meg o' the Mill has gotten.
O ken ye what Meg o' the Mill loes dearly,
An' ken ye what Meg o' the Mill loes dearly?
A dram o' gude strunt' in the morning early,
And that's what Meg o' the Mill loes dearly.
O ken ye how Meg o' the Mill was married,
An' ken ye how Meg o' the Mill was married?
The priest he was oxter'd," the clark he was carried,
And that's how Meg o' the Mill was married.
O ken ye how Meg o' the Mill was bedded,
An' ken ye how Meg o' the Mill was bedded?
The groom gat sae fou', he fell awaldh beside it,
And that's how Meg o' the Mill was bedded.
1 The former idea, with much of a peculiar sort of the old Scottish humour
• dowry.
nag.
supported on each side. h doubled up.
which inspires The Haggis in Dunbar,
and similar rude lyrics.
The Soldier's Return.1
Air-"The Mill, mill, O."
WHEN wild war's deadly blast was blawn,
And gentle peace returning,
Wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless,
And mony a widow mourning;
I left the lines and tented field,
Where lang I'd been a lodger,
My humble knapsack a' my wealth,
A poor and honest sodger.
A leal, light heart was in my breast,
My hand unstain'd wi' plunder;
And for fair Scotia, hame again,
I cheery on did wander:
I thought upon the banks o' Coil,
I thought upon my Nancy,
I thought upon the witching smile
That caught my youthful fancy.
At length I reach'd the bonie glen,
Where early life I sported;
I pass'd the mill and trysting thorn,
Where Nancy aft I courted:
Wha spied I but my ain dear maid,
Down by her mother's dwelling!
And turn'd me round to hide the flood
That in my e'en was swelling.
Wi' alter'd voice, quoth I, "Sweet lass,
Sweet as yon hawthorn's blossom,
O! happy, happy may he be,
That's dearest to thy bosom:
My purse is light, I've far to gang,
And fain would be thy lodger;
I've serv'd my king and country lang—
Take pity on a sodger."
1 Partly corrupted by Thomson, to suit his own taste, in the original publication.
Sae wistfully she gaz'd on me,
And lovelier was than ever;
Quo' she, "A sodger ance I lo'ed,
Forget him shall I never :
Our humble cot, and hamely fare,
Ye freely shall partake it;
That gallant badge-the dear cockade,
Ye're welcome for the sake o't."
She gaz'd-she redden'd like a rose-
Syne pale like ony lily;
She sank within my arms, and cried,
"Art thou my ain dear Willie?"
"By him who made yon sun and sky!
By whom true love's regarded,
I am the man; and thus may still
True lovers be rewarded!
"The wars are o'er, and I'm come hame,
And find thee still true-hearted;
Tho' poor in gear, we're rich in love,
And mair we'se ne'er be parted."
Quo' she, "My grandsire left me gowd,
A mailen plenish'd fairly;
And come, my faithfu' sodger lad,
Thou'rt welcome to it dearly!"
For gold the merchant ploughs the main,
The farmer ploughs the manor;
But glory is the sodger's prize,
The sodger's wealth is honor:
The brave poor sodger ne'er despise,
Nor count him as a stranger;
Remember he's his country's stay,
In day and hour of danger.
THANKSGIVING FOR A VICTORY
The true loyal Natives.
YE true "Loyal Natives" attend my song,
In uproar and riot rejoice the night long;
From Envy and Hatred your core is exempt,
But where is your shield from the darts of Contempt!
On Commissary Goldie's Brains.
LORD, to account who dares thee call,
Or e'er dispute thy pleasure?
Else why, within so thick a wall,
Enclose so poor a treasure?
Lines inscribed in a Lady's Pocket
Almanac.
GRANT me, indulgent Heaven, that I may live,
To see the miscreants feel the pains they give;
Deal Freedom's sacred treasures free as air,
Till Slave and Despot be but things that were.
Thanksgiving for a National Victory.
YE hypocrites! are these your pranks?
To murder men and give God thanks!
Desist, for shame!-proceed no further;
God won't accept your thanks for MURTHER!
All these little pieces have only ally, not beloved by the local loyalpolitical interest. Burns was, natur- ists.
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